


Spoken Affirmations

by chaoticlivi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi
Summary: They're having a romantic night together in the bookshop when Crowley discovers just how much Aziraphale loves his compliments.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 326
Collections: Aziraphale Treated Gently For Your Soul





	Spoken Affirmations

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lex (argentconflagration) for the idea, and to Cham (chamyl) and Cheryl (tumblr: behold-my-squees) for the beta work!
> 
> I could be a little out of my element here. This praise kink isn't quite in the context I usually see it (D/s relationships), it's just free-floating emotions. I hope it still fits the tag reasonably well.
> 
> Relationship category is, as always, based on what I'm pretty sure are the two most common interpretations for these characters.

The erotic dimension of their relationship is still quite new when Crowley accidentally discovers just how _much_ Aziraphale loves to be complimented.

It starts when they’re fooling around, and things aren’t decided - they could end up fucking wildly for the next eight hours or they could end up snuggling the night away at this point; they’ve only got to the kissing-and-petting part yet. The windows in the bookshop are covered and they’re on the couch in a one-armed embrace, their other arms crossed over as each puts a hand between the other’s legs in an effort to out-tease through their clothes and figure out what they’re in the mood for tonight.

And though it’s a bit early to tell, considering what’s going on in their pants so far, it seems they’re both up for a long cunt-stroking.

The lights are low but Aziraphale has a bright twinkle in his eye anyway, because he always does. He’s all wispy gold, warm shadows, soft lips. And he is so, so _happy_. Crowley is blissfully overtaken in the center of such joy. After seeing, over and over, the felicity they’re allowed to share, Crowley is shedding defenses he hadn’t even realized were affecting him. It’s like letting Aziraphale see his naked soul when he’d once hidden it even from himself.

Maybe this is how such sentimental words slip from Crowley’s tongue.

“Angel.” Crowley is enthralled, murmuring dazedly in the presence of Aziraphale’s grin in this brief, heady space between kisses. “You’re just incredible. So _lovely_...”

At a wide-eyed look from Aziraphale, Crowley realizes he just said that out loud.

“Ah! I mean-- Hmm. Was that a bit much? I don’t have to...”

“No, no!” Aziraphale says in a hurry. “Don’t apologize! I very much enjoyed hearing you say that.” He gives Crowley what is certainly meant to be a reassuring smile, and it is. But there is a hazy intensity to it.

“Is...is it _good_?” Crowley asks, hoping. Aziraphale is looking at him in a way he normally does much later in the proceedings, with flushed cheeks.

“Well, yes, of course,” Aziraphale breathes. “Extremely. Obviously. Very good.”

Crowley frowns a little. “Are you alright, then? You seem startled.”

“I suppose it’s just,” Aziraphale whispers, “when you said that, it hit me rather hard. In a _very_ nice way.”

“Oh.”

“Ah. Yes.”

 **“...Oh.”** Crowley, inspired with a wickedness that has nothing to do with Hell, lowers his voice to something more roguish. “Have I never given you a proper compliment before?”

“Certainly, you have,” Aziraphale says, “but so forthright, and like this? With your hands on me?”

That must be true. Even since Armageddon, it’s been hard to shake off the anxiety of putting his feelings into words after being under Heaven and Hell’s thumbs for so long. Speaking of Heaven and Hell, though, knowing how badly Aziraphale has always wanted to be _good_ and how utterly approval-starved he must have been with the bullying arseholes in Heaven…

Well. Crowley isn’t going to bring their rancid vibes to his lovemaking sessions with Aziraphale. But he understands. He blinks slowly, deliberately, working away from the cold mood Heaven always puts him in, reaching for Aziraphale and his warm soul.

“Guess lounging around with you all the time is just giving me a bit of extra courage lately,” Crowley says casually, hoping his voice doesn’t waver with emotion, because even though Aziraphale would just love that, he’s about to embark on an effort that will require a bit of composure. He employs his “tempting” inflection. “Would you like me to...keep going?”

“In what way?” Aziraphale asks, wiggling with perhaps a bit of excitement and a bit of nervousness. “Are you saying we just...sit here? And you say nice things about me? Surely that would be awkward?”

They’ve still got their hands on each other, stilled from all the chit-chat.

“I’m sure I can come up with _something_ else,” Crowley says, willing the tone of his voice to be like dark red velvet and hoping his ability to wax poetic kicks into high gear pronto if Aziraphale says he wants this. “I could keep touching you, too, during. If you’d like.” He swallows, a nervous tell.

Aziraphale strokes Crowley contemplatively, driving him quietly out of his mind, as he ponders. “I know I would enjoy it, as long as you promise me that you would,” Aziraphale answers.

“Oh, trust me, I’d love it.”

Aziraphale gives Crowley that shy, radiant smile that means he’s done something right. (Unfortunately it also makes him want to shut up and fuck _immediately_ , but they’ve got all night.)

Crowley goes back to what he was doing before, rubbing Aziraphale’s body through his trousers, but kisses into his neck instead of his lips as he searches for ways to begin talking.

“You know, I never did compliment your cologne,” Crowley starts, pushing that confidence through despite feeling it’s a rather weak start.

“Oh?” Aziraphale breathes. At least _he_ doesn’t sound like he thinks Crowley’s words are weak.

“Yes.” Bless it, how do you make it sexy to talk about smells? “It-- it’s earthy, I like that. And a little sweet, because of course. It’s you. And that, ah, slightly spicy overlay, you know, because...because it just suits you. Earth with a hint of sweet and a dash of spice.”

Aziraphale nudges Crowley’s head until he’s at the right angle for stealing a kiss. “Really,” he says. “Spicy? Me? The one you complain about sitting around all day reading?”

“You know I’m teasing you,” Crowley says. “Fun to get a reaction out of you. Anyway, yeah, you got that spark to you. You won’t even admit it, but it’s there, being stubborn like the rest of you.” Crowley swallows, still not entirely over his nerves. “Kind of inspiring, really.”

Aziraphale, the blush in his cheeks deepening, lets out a tiny gust of laughter, eyes closing in apparent pleasure as Crowley increases the pressure with his fingers. His smile gives Crowley an idea.

“Your lips.”

“Hmm?”

“They’re-- well, they’re lovely. D’you do that on purpose? Such a bright, kissable red.”

Aziraphale leans forward, bashfully hiding the big grin on his face against Crowley’s neck. His breath is all tickly. “Oh, no, it’s not on purpose.”

“Sexy as fuck when you’re going down on me,” Crowley adds, smirking into Aziraphale’s curly locks.

“So _that’s_ what it’s about,” Aziraphale teases through a whisper. His fondling of Crowley has stilled again because he's too busy making little cadenced advances toward Crowley’s fingers with his hips, though he’s still offering neck-kisses. Crowley misses the pressure on his own clit, but it’s a very good sign that Aziraphale is too consumed by arousal to focus on anything else.

“No, that’s not all there is to it, of course not. No, even if I never got to touch you again with any part of me, they’d be just as lovely.”

Aziraphale makes a high-pitched groan from the back of his throat. He’s hot and humid between his legs, and despite the thickness of those trousers, Crowley would like to believe it’s more than just sweat from his own hand causing the wetness.

“But also,” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s hair, “please don’t stop going down on me. You’re very good at it.”

“I don’t believe you need to worry about that,” Aziraphale says, lingering with his tongue on a kiss to Crowley’s throat. “You like my corporation? Are there other things you like about my corporation?”

“Well of course there are other things. Your eyes, for one.” Ah, great, he’s chosen the most clichéd body part imaginable.

“My eyes?”

“If I were some kind of romantic,” Crowley says, “I’d compare them to, perhaps, a line of poetical nonsense like…” He remembers he’s trying to pleasure Aziraphale, and that Aziraphale actually _enjoys_ hearing these things from him. “...Like the ocean when the sun comes out for the first time after it’s been raining.” When Aziraphale looks up and the eyes in question widen with wondrous skepticism, Crowley adds, “That’s honest. I mean it.”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath, chest heaving against Crowley’s. “This is wonderful,” he whispers. It is not lost on Crowley that he pushes his hips up to press yet harder against Crowley’s fingers.

“Alright, you know what? You’re entirely beautiful. There’s a softness about you. You're lovely to touch. And you're so comfortable to hold.” Crowley squeezes Aziraphale tighter, closer (as if that were possible) with one arm. He also subtly increases the pressure into Aziraphale’s lap with his other hand.

“Ahah,” Aziraphale pants, rolling his hips forward; Crowley increases the speed of his rubbing. There's a smile in the middle of Aziraphale's kiss. “You know my body is essentially whatever I choose for it to be…”

“Knowing it’s part of what you’ve chosen just makes it even better,” Crowley says. He lifts his hand, pulling a needy whine from Aziraphale. “Mind if I…?” he asks, brushing at the button along the waist of Aziraphale’s trousers.

Aziraphale pulls back to look Crowley in the eye again. “Please,” he says desperately, and does not wait to help push his trousers down.

Finally brushing his hand through the curly, golden hair between Aziraphale's legs and getting to touch his labia almost discorporates Crowley. “Oh, you feel incredible,” he moans, drawing his finger lightly along the soft cleft of Aziraphale’s slit. He’s practically dripping, slick with arousal. It may have been painted on his face before, woven in his voice, playing in the saline taste of his skin, but _this_ is something else.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale whispers. How doesn’t he know?

“You’re very soft and warm and-- and really, really _wet_ , oh, _fuck_ , Aziraphale.”

“It’s good for _you_?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

“How? How do I...how do I please you, just by sitting here, aroused?”

Okay, Aziraphale is no virgin - they’ve been messing around for a little while now and his understanding of the pleasures of the flesh is well-established. But he wants to hear it, and Crowley is here to please. “It’s because...because I can feel how much you want this. It’s one thing to be told. It’s another thing to feel it.”

“Yes, I do, I do want,” Aziraphale very nearly whimpers, thrusting upward once. Crowley obliges, letting his fingers slide between Aziraphale’s soft labia. Crowley himself finds his hips restless, craving relief, something to rut against; he, too, is soaked, the slick feeling in his pants almost a distraction. Almost.

To be fair, Aziraphale is kind of trying. He fondles lightly between Crowley’s legs; he’s just busy being indulged.

“You’re-- oh, I have to say it, angel. You’re good. You’re so, so good.”

“Thank you, thank you, Crowley, oh--”

Crowley fingers Aziraphale’s hot entrance, careful, listening to his angel’s hitched breathing. Aziraphale is soft and open, slippery and ready. Crowley slides a finger inside, tilting his hand so he also catches Aziraphale’s clit with his thumb.

Aziraphale fixes Crowley with that particular lusty gaze from beneath his eyelashes, the one he’d brought out early the first time Crowley complimented him this evening. “Please do go on,” he breathes. Slowly and with care, Crowley adds another finger, keeping his thumb in place, continuing to rub Aziraphale’s clit while he beckons forth an orgasm from deep inside his cunt.

“You’re radiant,” Crowley whispers. Being deep in this moment, deep in Aziraphale, gives him the courage to bear himself in ways he never can outside. Still, his voice trembles. “The way you enjoy _living_ and all the experiences of this world. It just pours off of you, your whole presence. I could never imitate it, even when I had your corporation.”

“Mmmmmmmm,” Aziraphale hums. “Crowley, you-- oh, you’re so _brilliant_...” He tries to kiss Crowley again but manages only to brush their lips together, his head tipping back as he focuses too much on his pleasure to properly kiss.

Crowley won’t ruin the mood by using Heaven’s name right now, but privately, he thinks this is what Heaven would be if it really was the best place in the universe. Aziraphale offers a louder noise, a crooning of Crowley’s name, as Crowley nips playfully at Aziraphale’s earlobe and finger-fucks him vigorously, whispering to him, whispering things that he hopes will help push him to his climax.

“See, watching you enjoy yourself is-- it’s divine and decadent, exquisite in a way I can’t describe.” Crowley rubs his own thighs together. Perhaps he could describe it better in a moment of clarity, but right now, he’s hazy with love and lust for Aziraphale, for his catching elation, for his heaving chest, for the gasp on his ruby lips. “The love you have - for everything,” Crowley clarifies, “the way you enjoy existence, it’s contagious.”

“Please, please keep going, and thank you. Absurd, it’s absurd how wonderful you are…” Aziraphale trails off with a honey-smooth moan.

“I’m supposed to be the tempter here, but you’re the one who taught me about pleasure.” At this, Aziraphale bites his lip and splays his fingers to clutch at Crowley through his trousers, never letting go of that one-armed embrace. “Oh, you sweet, lovely hedonist, just by inviting me to indulge with you,” Crowley murmurs. “Showing me the pleasure of fine food and drink, entertainment and,” he lowers his voice to something more lascivious, “fine _company_. You gave me the world, angel.”

“Oh, Crowley, you...you spoil me. It’s you who gave me…oh, oh _goodness_...”

Words are hard to find, so caught up is Crowley in the desperate desire to share Aziraphale’s orgasm and so fascinated is he by the way Aziraphale smiles just a little bit when he’s about to come. Nonetheless, he does manage to articulate a thought as Aziraphale finally spends the tautness in his body, reaching his completion with a happy sigh and the telltale fluttering pulse of his cunt around Crowley’s hand.

“Listen, you deserve this,” Crowley hisses. “You’re so, so good, you deserve an eternity of orgasms, if that’s what you want.”

Aziraphale takes a few deep breaths, starting with a gasp, smoothing himself into a calmer respiration, the roses in his cheeks splotchy with spent energy, sweat on his brow. He kisses Crowley lazily, humming his satisfied bliss. Crowley has the thought that he’s going to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t get to come soon when Aziraphale puts his own hand to work again, still looking a bit tranced but beaming with mischief all the same.

“An eternity of orgasms?" he asks flirtatiously. "My dear, I hope we can take breaks for tea and biscuits in between.”


End file.
